In the christmas spirit of excessive and unhealthy nibble grazing, I would like to take the opportunity of introducing my new favourite snack; delectable grass hoppers fried in their own belly fat . "Ensenene" as they are called in the local lingo, were in ripe and crunchy season just as I left Kampala in early December. Naturally high in protein, equally fatty, and exponentially delicious, they are dished up in small cones of newspaper reminiscent of the austerity packaging of UK fish and chips in World War II.
The ensenene season is accompanied by a 24 hour song: the jingling bells of daily sellers and the rustle of their flimsy shells being tossed around in tuppawares to attract buyers, and the nightly chorus of hundreds of thousands of grasshopper wings careering into hypnotic street lights. Leaping irratically around these lights, the small critters are collected en masse, often through innovative traps involving corrugated metal, for cooking and selling/eating.
The legs and wings are snapped off, their bodies fried, and voila: grubs up! The point at which the grasshopper dies is a flexible one around which no specific practises have been developed, in reflection of their lowly insect status. Kosher, or ethically slaughtered they are not, but free range, in demand and highly profitable they may be. One of the most expensive snacks to be bought locally, Ugandan diaspora and eccentric entomologists with cravings are also known to have paid premiums of up to $90 for an ounce. For those prepared to farm them and sell them out of season, soaring profits could be just a hop, skip and a jump away.
